


Take Each Day As It Comes

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I love filling in these little slice of life gaps, M/M, Post S7, curtashi - Freeform, everyone should love Shiro, pre s8, shirtis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: Everything happened so fast that day. One minute, the Atlas hadn’t had enough power to launch, and the next, everyone had a job to do and saving Earth was the prime objective. It didn’t matter to Curtis that the Captain, Commander Shirogane, hadn’t known who he was. Now, in the aftermath, they need to start preparing for the final battle in the war for the universe, and Curtis is about to really meet the man behind all the stories.





	Take Each Day As It Comes

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Curtashi Week Day 1 - First Meeting. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

_Well, we survived an alien invasion, so also saying that it’s bright and sunny at the Garrison today and we’re having my favorite in the mess hall feels far below exciting compared to that. I can’t even begin to describe the last few days. It's like nothing I ever thought I'd experience, and now it's just fact. It’s real life. I’m on the bridge of the most amazing spaceship the world has ever seen, and today, I’m going to meet the captain. So maybe I was taking orders from him before he ever learned my name, but I’m okay with that._

_Earth is saved._

/

All the chatter moving across the military posture lineup quiets immediately the moment Commanders Iverson, Holt and Shirogane stepped into the room. Shoulders square tighter, soldiers stand taller. Curtis takes a deep breath — in through the nose, out through the mouth. The excitement in the room is palpable, and for all his attempts at calm, even he can’t help the way his fingers twitch at his sides. The trio makes their way down the line slowly, and Iverson introduces each one of the people that would now become the core crew of the Atlas. Hundreds of others would be employed in various sectors of the ship, for the IGF Atlas had been built like the Garrison: the size of a small town. But the soldiers that had been gathered here would be on the bridge, in the munitions hold, the mechanical rooms, and the communication points. For his part, Curtis is truly content with internal ops, relaying messages and keeping tabs on people and places in flight. It’s an honor, really, one that he hadn’t imagined possible.

It takes time for them to make their way to him, but it happens in what feels like seconds to Curtis. One minute, they’ve only just begun, and when he blinks, they’re finishing up with the soldier next to him. He swallows past the lump in his throat, looks up when he’s suddenly within arm’s reach of Takashi Shirogane, the Captain of the IGF Atlas. Before the Galra occupation of Earth, Curtis had only known him by name and reputation. Who _doesn’t_ know Shiro, the pilot of the Kerberos mission, a literal _hero_? Certainly no one associated with the Garrison. Certainly no one who watched the news. Curtis half expects a recruitment poster smile and a slight glow to be coming off of him.

“Captain, this is Lieutenant Curtis Moreau.”

It’s like knowing his cue in a play and having the easiest line, but there’s still a record-skip moment where Curtis focuses too long on the Captain’s face before his hand comes up in a salute, and he respectfully addresses him with, “Captain, sir.”

He’s startled to see a very tired man before him. But he doesn’t avoid looking Shirogane right in the eyes when he salutes, and he’s shocked further when the Captain smiles warmly at him and holds out his hand. Had he been doing that with the other soldiers? Curtis had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice. Another record-skip moment and he reaches out to clasp the free floating hand. So maybe Shirogane does glow a little.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lieutenant,” Shirogane tells him with that same sincerity that is present in his smile, reaching his eyes and honest in the dark circles beneath them. The firm handshake feels natural, intended with respect. Curtis is floored.

“I should be saying that to you, sir.” Oh, so his voice does still work.

“Captain,” Sam Holt interjects pleasantly, “Commander Iverson and I have made the decision to appoint Lieutenant Moreau as your comm spec going forward.”

Curtis blinks. _What?_

“That’s great to hear,” Shirogane looks at Curtis again, and the laugh that rolls out of him makes Curtis shut his mouth and clear his throat. “Did anyone tell you that before now?”

It takes Curtis a moment to realize Shirogane is talking to him, and now he’s laughing. A nervous, happy sound that he’s sure is going to make him want to sink into the floor the minute everyone’s attention is elsewhere. “No, sir.”

“Typical of those two. I’m sorry that everything happened so fast. I was told you coordinated the movement of the crew from the bridge when we transformed Atlas for the first time. You no doubt prevented a lot of injury and panic. We’ll need that kind of steady focus in the weeks ahead. Are you up to the task?”

It’s not that Curtis had been trying to forget that legendary moment when the Atlas and her Captain mutually decided they were going to become a city sized mecha and save Voltron from imminent destruction. But it’s a lot easier to believe that fact is a part of his life when it’s safely compartmentalized in the category of ‘this is a thing that happened’. He recalls repeating ‘ _Atlas crew, hold on tight_ ’ in the six languages he knows over the PA, slowly and deliberately, just as the walls started moving of their own accord.

_Are you up to the task?_

Curtis knows the answer immediately. “Yes, sir.”

When Shirogane beams, it’s still not recruitment poster. Too real for that. “I look forward to it.”

He actually believes that.

/

Curtis doesn’t expect to see Captain Shirogane so soon after their formal introduction. But there he is in the back corner of the mess hall, full tray of food in front of him. There are soldiers of varying ranks grabbing late meals before scurrying off to their other tasks. Some of them stop long enough to greet the Captain, salute respectfully, as if they’d be docked points for letting the man eat in peace. The Captain indulges each of those interactions with the same tired warmth he’d had in the lineup. He doesn’t seem any less sincere, but Curtis thinks he’s definitely more distracted. From his spot halfway across the room, he watches Shiro’s face switch on and off like a light. Brighter when someone approaches him, dimmer when he can slip back into whatever is so clearly weighing on his mind. His fork pushes food around but never carries it to his mouth.

Curtis taps his own fork nervously against his tray, while he battles indecision and protocol. Before he can talk himself out of it, he reminds himself how personable Shirogane had been with them on the bridge. In any case, Curtis thinks he can take a hint if his decision proves to be the wrong one. He gathers his items up onto his tray and gets up, striding with purpose back to Shirogane’s table. No one else is sitting at it except the Captain. Is he really doing this?

“Sir, would you like some company?” Yes. Yes, he is.

The way Shirogane blinks up at him in utter surprise is so human that Curtis almost feels guilty for thinking he’d been anything but. The Captain’s mouth moves a couple of times, but nothing comes out, and then he finally seems to pull himself back to the moment, gesturing with his non-fork hand across from him.

“Not sure what kind of company I am, but you’re welcome to sit.”

Curtis slides into the seat and says his thank you in a smile. He takes a bite of his dinner roll, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. He sees no point in asking if everything’s okay, because it’s clear everything is not, but pushing for specifics doesn’t seem right when he barely knows the Captain beyond his piloting skill and, oh yeah, saving the world. Still, he can’t just say nothing, not when Shirogane has already gone back to pushing food from one place to the next, the light back to dim. It actually makes Curtis’s chest tight and his own food taste bland. He should say  _something_.

“We’ve only just met today, sir,” he starts off, “but only half my job is talking. The other half is listening. If you need it.”

Once more, he’s pinned by Shirogane’s soft eyes, and this time he not only sees exhaustion but worry. Still, there’s an attempt at a smile. “You can call me Shiro,” he replies. “And thanks. Really.” He puts his fork down, giving up on pretending to eat so he can fold his arms on the table. Tilting his head curiously, he meets Curtis’s gaze, searching. “Do I look that bad?”

_Danger_ , says Curtis’s common sense. There’s really no good way to answer that, but something tells him that if there’s one course he can head down with confidence, it’s honesty. “You look like something’s weighing on your mind, si—Shiro.” He says the name carefully, as if the permission to use it would be redacted at a moment’s notice. Shiro’s the first commanding officer he’s ever addressed by a familiar name, and it’s strange, but in a nicer way than he expects. “It’s only been a few days since…well, everything. I’ll bet you have a lot on your plate.”

Shiro lets out a sigh through his pursed lower lip, ruffling his bangs. “That’s an understatement.”

Curtis can’t help himself. He aims his own fork at Shiro’s tray, quirking a brow. “You also have a lot on your plate. That food is going to do you more good inside than out.”

That startles a laugh out of Shiro, and he has the grace to look sheepish. “Point taken.”

To Curtis’s credit, Shiro tries again and manages a few bites. Pleased, he focuses on his own meal, glancing up at Shiro through his lashes every now and again. He wonders if he should say something more when Shiro slows down and starts doing more pushing again. But Shiro beats him to it.

“The global address is two days from now. The princess is the only one who’s woken up since…” Shiro’s throat works around air and emotion alone. “…since the crash.” He says crash with such finality, like it’s a heavy burden he should be carrying all on his own.

Curtis lays down his fork, clasps his hands in front of his chin, giving Shiro his full attention again. He needs this; he probably hasn’t been able to tell anyone. Curtis gets it. The things a person should be able to tell the closest people are often much easier said to a stranger. Easier because the stranger doesn’t know all the details. Curtis doesn’t need to know the details to see the guilt and the fear. He’s never felt like holding someone’s hand more than in this moment.

“No one wants to say it, that her recovery has a lot to do with her alien biology. No one wants to say that the others might be…that they might not wake up. And in front of everyone, I need to be worried about what happens if we can’t form Voltron, but all I care about is what if…”

Curtis decides to hell with protocol and reaches out to catch Shiro’s left hand, covering it with his own.

He learned a long time ago that military life, even in peacetime, meant no promises. So he can’t tell Shiro everything will be okay, and while he wants to remind him that he and the Paladins have already survived so much, he’d promised to listen.

“Probably not the dinner conversation you were looking for,” Shiro says with a forced chuckle. It sounds wet.

Curtis shakes his head. “I wasn’t looking for anything, sir. Say whatever you need.”

“I wanted to save them. And instead, they saved me. Again.”

“With all due respect, Shiro, you did save them. And they did what they could to save Earth. I don’t know them like you do, but perhaps the princess will back me up when I tell you that they would probably do it all over again if they had to. Just like you would, right? There’s no telling what could happen now, but every moment that they’re still breathing, they’re fighting to live and to come back to you. I believe that, and I hope you do too.”

“I do,” Shiro says without missing a beat. He turns his hand under Curtis’s so he can squeeze it. “Thanks, Lieutenant Mor—”

“Curtis,” he interrupts gently, watching the soft smile return to Shiro’s face. “And you’re welcome.”


End file.
